#drunk antics

You, however, had absolutely overdone it.

“Harumasa,” you whispered, voice soft and slurred, leaning forward over the table until your forehead brushed against his arm. “Why are your sleeves always rolled up like that?”

He glanced sideways at you, lazy as ever. “Easier to move that way,” he replied, his tone carrying that familiar half-smile. “Efficiency, remember?”

“Mmm,” you hummed, eyes squinting as if deep in thought, then you giggled—light, airy. “You and your efficiency. You even make drinking look efficient.”

He sighed, amused. “That’s one way to say ‘boring.’”

You shook your head fervently, too close now, your breath warm against his shoulder. “Nooo, you’re not boring. You’re… efficient in a sexy way.”

That made him pause.

His eyes flickered, his hand stopping mid-motion as he set the glass down. You blinked up at him, realizing you’d said it aloud, and instead of backtracking like you usually would, you grinned lazily.

“Actually, it really bothers me when people flirt with you,” you continued, your words tumbling freely now. “Those fans asking about your heart or your choker, like—don’t they know you’re mine?”

The air froze.

You twirled your fingers in the strap of his tactical harness, tracing along the edge, completely oblivious to the soft crimson rising on his face.

“…Mine, huh?” Harumasa said, voice low.

You nodded without hesitation, eyes half-lidded and dreamy. “Yup. I like your choker too. It looks really good on you. Like it’s saying, ‘off-limits.’”

He covered his mouth, stifling an incredulous laugh. “You’re something else when you drink.”

He meant to push you gently away, but you beat him to it—head falling against his chest with a content sigh. “Mhm. Warm…”

He let out a quiet exhale, almost defeated. You were weightless against him, murmuring about how cool his eyes looked, how his voice was comforting, how you liked his lazy way of smiling.

When you tugged weakly at his hand, threading your fingers through his gloved ones, his composure cracked just a little more.

“You should sleep,” he murmured, adjusting your hair away from your face.

“Only if you promise to stay,” you whispered back, already half-asleep.

He hesitated. Then, softly—almost to himself—he said, “You really shouldn’t say things like that so easily.”

But even as he said it, his thumb brushed your knuckles. And though his gaze returned to his glass, the faintest smile lingered, like a man who’d stopped fighting the inevitable for one quiet night.

“Wine is meant to be savored,” Hugo had said earlier that evening, all graceful gestures and smug charm. “Not devoured.”

You’d apparently taken that as a challenge.

Now, two and a half glasses later, you were anything but savoring. Hugo sat beside you, impeccably composed, watching your drunken antics with both amusement and mild disbelief.

“Darling, if you continue like that, even your liver will start questioning your life choices,” he drawled, leaning back in his seat.

You giggled, pointing accusingly at him. “S’not fair. You talk so fancy when you’re tipsy. Why can’t I be classy drunk?”

“Because, my dear,” he said, swirling his wine, “you skipped the ‘graceful decline’ stage and dove straight into ‘confession hour.’”

You frowned, unamused—then pouted. “You’re so mean when you’re right.”

He smiled faintly, eyes glinting in that half-amused, half-adoring way. “And you’re quite adorable when you’re indignant.”

That made you blink. Then your face lit up like a firework. “You think I’m adorable?”

Before he could answer, you slid closer—far too close—until your knees brushed his. Your fingers tugged at his tie, eyes hazy but sharp with boldness alcohol had coaxed out.

“You know,” you murmured, voice dropping to a whisper, “your fans don’t deserve you.”

His smile faltered. “Oh?”

“They call you charming and mysterious, but they don’t see you,” you continued, the words spilling freely. “They don’t see how tired you are when you come home late, or how you always feed Robin before yourself, or—” you hiccupped—“how gentle you get when you think no one’s watching.”

For once, Hugo was speechless.

You tilted your head, smiling dreamily. “I get jealous, sometimes. When people ask for your attention. When they talk about how handsome you are.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Jealous? You?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, fingers now tracing the buttons of his vest. “Because you’re mine, and I don’t like sharing.”

He chuckled, the sound soft but laced with something deeper. “Possessive, are we?”

You hummed in affirmation, resting your head against his shoulder. “I’m drunk and possessive. Terrible combo.”

He looked down at you, amusement flickering into something gentler. Carefully, he set his wine glass aside, one hand brushing against your cheek. “Terrible? I’d say… dangerously endearing.”

You nuzzled closer, muttering incoherently about how good he smelled and how pretty his eyes looked when the light hit them. Hugo listened in silence, the corner of his mouth twitching every so often.

When you finally drifted off against him, murmuring a sleepy, “Don’t leave, okay?”, Hugo exhaled softly.

“Never,” he whispered, voice barely audible.

He draped his coat around your shoulders, eyes softening. For once, the great phantom thief looked less like a man of mystery and more like someone who’d found the one thing he could never steal—peace.

Lighter had seen plenty of drunks in his day—bikers, fighters, mercs—but none quite like you.

You were sitting cross-legged on the counter of the gang’s private bar, cheeks flushed, eyes glazed, clutching your third glass like it was a life goal. He leaned nearby, arms crossed, scarf fluttering faintly from the ceiling fan’s wind.

“Y’know,” you slurred, “you always look so cool, it’s unfair.”

Lighter tilted his head, his usual grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Unfair? You saying I should look worse?”

“Yes,” you said immediately. “You should have at least one bad photo somewhere. It’s criminal that you don’t.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You hopped down—barely—and stumbled right into his chest.

“Woah,” he caught you, steadying you with one arm. “Easy there, champ.”

You looked up at him, dazed. “You called me champ. That’s your thing.”

He smirked. “Guess you’ve earned it for surviving three shots.”

You squinted at him, then reached up to tug his red scarf. “Why do you wear this all the time?”

“Symbol,” he replied. “Means I fight for the gang, not just myself.”

You hummed, fingers running over the fabric. “It suits you. Red looks good on you. Passionate, brave…” your words softened, “…and warm.”

That last part caught him off guard.

He tried to look away, but your next words hit harder than a right hook.

“I get so jealous sometimes,” you whispered, tugging gently at the scarf again. “Everyone calls you ‘The Champion,’ everyone cheers for you—but they don’t see how tired you are when you come home, or how much you hate blood, or how gentle you get when someone’s hurt.”

Lighter’s breath hitched.

You smiled hazily, fingertips brushing his jaw. “You always say you can’t lose, right? But… you already won. You won me.”

For a second, the air between you stilled—quiet, charged, real.

Then you wobbled, nearly toppling, and he caught you again with a low laugh. “You’re gonna make me faint before you do, y’know that?”

“Mmm, maybe,” you murmured against his chest. “You smell like smoke and cologne. It’s nice.”

He froze. Then, slowly, his hand came up to the back of your head, steady but hesitant.

“Get some rest,” he said, his voice lower than usual. “You’re drunk.”

“You like me though, right?” you asked suddenly, peering up with glassy eyes.

Lighter blinked. “…You really want that answer right now?”

“Yes.”

He sighed, smiling wryly. “Yeah. I like you, dummy. But we’ll talk about it when you’re sober.”

You grinned, satisfied, and nestled against him. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not letting go.”

“Didn’t think you would,” he muttered, his cheeks faintly pink beneath his shades.

When you finally dozed off, his thumb brushed across your cheek briefly before pulling the scarf around you both, a silent promise wrapped in red warmth.

Realizing she was pulling and not pushing, more giggles escaped as she pushed the door open with a little too much force and tripped inside.

“Poppy?”

Oh! And there was his lovely, sweet voice! The young woman hastily shoved the door closed and stumbled around the corner to the kitchenette, catching herself on the wall, “Branch~! You're awake!” And looking rather cute in his pajamas and with that confused look in his eyes. So adorable~

Branch blinked at her, not really all that surprised at seeing her come home as almost three in the morning, drunk out of her mind. He was a little surprised at her happy tone at finding him up though. Sighing, he set down his third cup of coffee and replied, “Uh...yeah. Couldn't sleep...” His stupid insomnia had kicked in and no matter what he tried he couldn't fall asleep, so he opted to get some homework done.

Poppy giggled before throwing herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, “Let's dance!”

Branch sputtered, caught of guard by her sudden glomp, “What?! No!” He tried to push her away but she wouldn't let go, “You should go to bed. You're drunk.”

“Nah!!” Poppy sang as she pulled away and grabbed his hand before trying to drag him into the living room, “We're gonna dance!”

“Poppy!” Branch groaned, trying to stop her by tugging on her hand, “It's too late for that! And-and...There's no music!”

The pinkette paused, considering his words for a moment before she glanced over her shoulder at him. She flashed him a hooded look, smirking before suddenly pushing her back against his chest as she began to sway her hips, “Who said we needed music?”

Branch stiffened, eyes wide and a blush blazing to life on his cheeks, “Uh...Poppy?” What was she doing? What was she doing? What. Was. She. Doing?!?!

Poppy hummed, head leaned back against his shoulder, “Come on, Branchie-Boo~ Dance with me! ...And hold me like this.” She then wrapped one of his arms around her hip, holding it in place and grabbed his free hand, bringing it up and cupping it to her breast.

Branch's mind promptly shorted circuited as the only thought to go through was how his hand on her boob. His hand was cupping her boob. She was forcing him to grope her and all he could focus on was how he was touching her breast. Her very firm and perky breast. It also didn't help that her hips were still swaying to and fro, brushing against him in such a way that had all the blood not currently occupying his face rushing south. Finally realizing what was happening, he harshly pulled away with a cry, uncaring if it was too loud, and backtracked to the kitchen, “No!!!”

Poppy blinked, wondering why she was no longer being held with those strong arms of his before glancing behind her. It took her another few seconds to process his 'no' before she giggled and began sashaying her way back over to him. He was so cute when he was shy~

“Aww, don't be like that! We were having fun!”

“No! No we were not!” Branch cried, backing away from her until his back hit the counter, “Poppy, you're drunk!”

“Psssh! No I'm not.” She flapped a hand at him, “I'm perfectly sober!” Poppy spun around with a giggle, wobbling on her heels before throwing herself at Branch and wrapping her arms around hid neck again, “Come on, Branch, let's have some fun~!”

Branch tried to stand as still as he could, hands gripping the counter behind him and wrinkling his nose at Poppy's alcohol scented breath as she pushed herself against him, “No!”

Poppy whined and leaned up to his ear, trying to wrap a leg around his waist, “But I want you.”

Branch felt like his had just swallowed his tongue as he froze. While yes, in his darkest dreams he had always wanted to hear Poppy say that to him and he would give absolutely anything to hear her say it again, she wasn't in her right mind right now. She was drunk and had no idea what she was saying! He had to put a stop to this before something even worse happened.

“Poppy!!” He shouted, pushing her away and glaring at her, “You're drunk and need to go to bed!”

She blinked, eyes unfocused before giggling and smiling at him, “Only if you come with me~”

“No.” How many times did he have to say it?!

“Please?” She whined, pouting and sticking out her chest, “You can touch my boobs again...and more~”

Branch didn't think his face could get any hotter, she just didn't know what she did to him, but he couldn't, wouldn't, focus on that. Growling, he suddenly picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. Looks like he'd have to get her into bed himself....which sounded so wrong given the current circumstances. Why couldn't she have just decided to run around the apartment claiming to be a queen?! He could handle her crazy antics more than this sudden want to sleep with him!!

Poppy giggled and cheered as he picked her up and wiggled in his arms, excited for when he would take her hard and fast and make her scream until she was breathless! “Yes! Make me yours, Hottie-McHot Stuff!!”

Branch groaned, why did she have to keep saying things like that?! Pushing her door open, he dropped her gently on to her bed, hoping against hope she'd fall asleep quickly as she usually did whenever she was drunk. However, fate was not on his side as Poppy managed to grab his neck and pull him down with her. Branch managed to catch himself before falling completely on top of her but now he was caught in her surprisingly strong grip.

“Poppy, let go!”

“Kiss me!” She cried, trying to drag him down.

“No!” Branch tried to twist his face away from her as she pulled, trying to think of some way to get out of this. He felt her hot breath fan over his neck when something came to him, “Poppy. Poppy, wait! I..” He really didn't want to say this but if it got her to let go... “I've got to go get something.”

“Hmm?” She blinked before her eyes lit up and she giggled, throwing her arms up and releasing him, “Okay~!” He was such a gentleman, making sure they had protection. She shifted as he pulled back, arching her body in a way she was sure had him looking at her before casting a sultry look up at him, “Hurry back.”

Branch was positive his face, and other regions, were going to exploded as he stared wide eyed at her before flying out of the room. He ran and clutched the kitchen sink in his hands, knuckles white as he took deep breaths, thankful his plan had sort of worked. Now he just had to wait and hope that Poppy would fall asleep without him there to focus on. Taking a steadying breath after a few minutes, he grabbed a glass and filled it with water before slowly creeping down the hallway.

Peeking around her doorway, Branch breathed a sigh of relief  at seeing the pinkette passed out and sleeping soundly. Shuffling quietly into her room, he set the glass down on her bedside table so she'd find it in the morning, then he grabbed her trash bucket and placed it beside her bed on the off chance she got sick. After carefully and slowly taking her shoes off, Branch glanced at her and sighed, shaking his head, it was unbelievable just how much he loved this woman if this was the sort of craziness she brought into his life. But, he supposed, she wouldn't be her if she didn't do things like get drunk on a week night and come home to torture him.

Quietly backing out of her room, he closed her door before slumping against the wall, he never wanted to deal with that again. At least now maybe he could try to get some sleep, there way no way he'd be able to focus on any school work anymore but first; Branch groaned and cursed his body for the reaction Poppy's actions had enticed, he was going to take a very, very, very cold shower.

                                           ~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning was bright and sunny, the light shining through the sheer pink curtains of the window above Poppy's bed causing the sleeping pinkette to groan and roll over in an attempt to escape the light. She whimpered as she curled up in a ball, squeezing her eyes tightly as she tried to grab a pillow to throw over her head to block the sunshine. She felt like her head was being split open by a sledgehammer and her mouth was full of cotton balls and that maybe she might get sick. She also had the uncomfortable feeling of having slept in her clothes, which had her shifting in attempt to get comfortable. Maybe accepting Smidge's challenge of a drinking contest hadn't been the best idea last night, as a large chunk of what they did was nothing but a blurry mess for her. At least someone had managed to get her home.

Carefully prying her eyes open, Poppy squinted at nothing in particular, wishing she could go back to sleep. But she was now almost painfully aware of how uncomfortable she was and she knew she'd at least have to crawl out of bed to throw on a nightgown. Slowly, she sat up, groaning as the motion really didn't help anything before blinking at her side table. It gradually dawned on her there was a glass of water and a few pills sitting there so she reached over sluggishly to take them. After downing the pills, Poppy slowly sipped the water as her nausea went away before carefully changing into one her soft nightgowns. Staring forlornly at her bed, the young woman decided that nature's call was more important.

Opening her door, she was met with the amazing smell of fresh bacon and the sizzling sounds of it being cooked. Shuffling out to her main living space, she was pleasantly surprised to find it in shadow due to the closed curtains and at her roommate at the stove, cooking what smelled like a full breakfast of sausage, bacon, eggs and even pancakes. Poppy couldn't help the moan that escaped as her mouth watered, all the delicious smells making her feel absolutely famished. Which was surprising with how nauseous she had been feeling not ten minutes before hand.

Branch looked up in surprise at her unexpected noise, “Poppy!” He squeaked, cheeks growing warm, before he winced and lowered his tone, “I...How do you feel?”

Poppy moaned at the reminder of her headache and leaned against the counter, “Like a cupcake ran over. What's with the breakfast?”

“Uh..well...” Despite last nights little...fiasco, Branch had known he just couldn't let Poppy suffer with a hangover by herself so he had done some internet searching on basic cures. While most either called for things they didn't have, even more alcohol, or were just plain weird, one had stuck out to him that a lot of people claimed really worked. A big greasy breakfast. So that's what he set out to do, although he hadn't expected Poppy to be up while he was still cooking, he could barely look at her without remembering her antics from early that morning. “I looked up home hangover remedies and a breakfast like this looked the most doable.”

“Mmm...well it smells delicious. I'll be right back, okay? Gotta use the ladies' room.”

When he nodded, Poppy turned to shuffled her way back down the hall, frowning slightly as she wondered why Branch seemed to not want to make eye-contact with her. He usually acknowledged her a little more...

                                                   ~*~*~*~*~*~

After her bathroom run, Poppy buried her head in her arms at the table as she waited for Branch to scramble some eggs for her. While her head maybe felt a teeny, tiny bit better than it had when she woke up, it no longer felt quite like it was being split open, she still felt it pounding behind her temples and groaned. She was so going to back to bed after she ate.

Lifting her head as Branch sat a plate full of freshly cooked items and a glass of water, she smiled up at him, “Thanks.”

He just made a hum of acknowledgment as he turned back to the kitchen. Frowning down at her food, poking it her fork, Poppy spoke up, “If...If I did something weird last night, I'm sorry okay?” She couldn't help how watery her voice suddenly was, “I...I didn't mean to and...” She sniffled, feeling her eyes feel with tears, “Please don't-don't shut me out again be-because of it. I-I've liked getting close to you again, like when we were kids.”

Sighing roughly, Branch ran a hand through his hair, of course he was going to hold it against her, she had been drunk and hadn't known what she was doing. Still it was gonna be hard to look her in the eye for a while but he suppose he would have to try. Rounding the counter, he passing a Poppy a tissue, “Fine. I'll...I'll try, okay?” It would be tough, every time he'd glanced at her this morning he had felt himself blush as he remembered her actions and heard her voice telling him she wanted him. She forced him to grope her for godsakes!! But, Branch also knew he couldn't let her continue being upset by what she didn't remember. “Don't cry now, okay?”

Poppy sniffed as she wiped at her eyes and nodded, “Okay.”

“Now eat please, it should help the headache pills take effect.” He said, going back to the kitchen to quickly eat his portion, “I take it you're not going to class today?”

“Nu-uh.” She shrugged, “I'm just gonna take a nap after eating.” Poppy then shoveled a bite into her mouth and groaned in delight, “Thish ish yummy~!”

Branch coughed lightly, cheeks pinking at her small moan, “Th-thanks.”

Silence reigned as they ate, each focused on their food, well Poppy was focused on her food, Branch was more focused on willing himself to forget her antics last night before finishing his breakfast. As he swallowed he said, “I gotta head to work now. Will...you be okay today?”

Poppy looked up at him and nodded, fork in her mouth, “Yup. Not the first time I've had to take care of myself with a hangover, though it is the first time I've had such a great breakfast... Thanks again.” She flashed him one of her bright smiles, which, paired with the tiredness on her face and messy hair just made him fall in love with her more.

“You-”He cleared his throat, “You're welcome.” He grabbed his vest and key-ring on his way to the door, “...Call if you need anything.”

“Will do~”

After he left, Poppy finished her food, taking her time not only because she still rather crummy but to also savor it a little before shuffling over to the couch. Grabbing the remote, she found some random cartoon channel, setting the volume on low and snuggled into the couch cushions, pulling the throw-blanket over her legs. Sighing as she closed her eyes, the action helping her head not hurt so much, the pinkette allowed herself to fall back asleep.

                                             ~*~*~*~*~*~

A few hours later, Poppy's eyes fluttered open at the sound of someone knocking on the door. Yawning as she rolled over slightly as she rubbed the sleep from an eye and called for however to come in. Sitting up as the door opened, she was pleasantly surprised to see Biggie coming in, a few bags thrown over his shoulders. She smiled sleepily at her friend as he came over to her.

“Heya, Bigs. What cha' doin' here?”

“Hello, Poppy,” The large man greeted, taking a seat on the floor in front of the coffee table, “You didn't show up at school today and weren't answering your phone, so I thought I'd come check up on you. You did drink a lot last night.”

“Ahaha, yeah...” Poppy scratched at her cheek, “Were you the one to bring me home?”

He nodded as he set a cooler bag on the table, “And I brought some soup in case you were hungry. And...” Biggie then brought up another bag, one Poppy instantly recognized as he opened it and a blond stripped cat popped his head out, his little bow-tie collar jingling, “I thought you might like a furry companion. Since Fuzzbert is back in Trollington.”

“Aww, thanks, Biggie.” Poppy cooed, wagging her fingers to get the attention of Mr Dinkles, “I'm actually not feeling too bad now,” Branch's breakfast had really worked, her head was feeling a hundred times better now, “But I really appreciate you coming over.”

Mr. Dinkles made a merping sound before jumping out of his carrier and going over to Poppy, bumping his head against her arm and curling up happily in her lap. Poppy giggled as she began to pet the feline, smiling as he began to purr. She and Biggie spoke as he went into kitchen to warm up the food he brought, talking about last night. Poppy admitted she really didn't remember much past a certain point and that she had done something that had made Branch act weird around her.

“I asked him not to hold it against me,” She said, a bowl of Biggie's special chicken noodle soup in her lap, Mr. Dinkles curled up beside her, “And he said he'd try but...I must have really done something awful if he couldn't even look at me...”

“I doubt you could've done something awful, Poppy, it's you.” Biggie smiled, his accented voice calming, “I'm sure whatever it was, was just something Branch thinks you'd find embarrassing and didn't want to make you feel worse this morning. I know you've been really happy and proud of him lately. I'm sure if you'd ask him, he'd tell you.”

“I suppose...” Poppy sipped her soup in thought, wondering what she could've done that Branch thought she wouldn't want to know, he never had a problem telling her how ridiculous her previous drunk antics had been.

“Don't fret, okay?” Her friend said, patting her shoulder, “Everything always works out, right?”

She giggled and nodded. Biggie was right, things usually did work out, “Right.”

“Now,” Biggie grinned at her, “I have a question. A certain someone's birthday is soon, right?” Poppy had to giggle as he stressed 'certain someone' knowing he was talking about Creek, “What plans have you thought so far?”

Poppy shrugged, “Not much, I'm afraid. I haven't had a chance the last few weeks to break out the Planning Clipboard. Ideas are welcome.”

“Well then, let's get started!”

                                             ~*~*~*~*~*~

The rest of the afternoon was spent tossing around ideas for Creek's birthday. Anywhere from their usual brand of blow-out party, with glitter bombs, loud music and maybe even some fireworks to something more simple like a fancy dinner party. Poppy decided to try a figure out a theme then when they couldn't think of anything that seemed to really suit their calm and advice giving friend. After that they brainstormed themes, eventually settling on something they called the 'Wellness and Peace' theme. They thought incorporating all of Creek's likes into a party would be something he'd like.

Then it was onto some pre-planning of the music selection, food, games and decorations of course. Everything was looking like a great place to start and Poppy felt confident she could whip together a fantastic party for her boyfriend-to-be. Giggling, she told Biggie so, thanking him for his help for brainstorming with her as Mr. Dinkles happily sat on his owner's shoulders. Feeling a lot better than she had that morning, Poppy decided she felt well enough to bake, partly in thanks for Biggie being such an amazing friend for not only checking up on her but his help with ideas, and for Branch for his breakfast cure. Sure her head was starting to twinge again with the return of her headache but a few more pain pills were all she'd need to chase it away.

Almost a hour later, full of batter mixing and giggling as Mr. Dinkles chased a yawn ball, Poppy was pulling out a fresh batch of double chocolate chunk brownies from the oven. Taking a deep whiff of them as she held them up, Poppy hummed happily, a good warm, gooey brownie was just what this day needed. Setting them on a wire rack to cool, she turned to put the now clean dishes, courtesy Biggie, away when the pastel haired man's phone chimed.

Glancing at the device, the large man startled, realizing the time, “Oh! I'm so sorry, Poppy, but I have to go! I had almost forgotten about meeting with the photography club tonight!”

“Oh! No probs, Big!” Poppy said, turning to pull out a plastic container, “Go have fun.” She set about cutting and placing three good sized brownies for him in the little plastic box as he gathered his things together, including coxing Mr. Dinkles back into his carrier, “Thanks for coming by to check on me and then hanging out.”

“Of course!” Biggie exclaimed, wrapping her up in a big, gentle hug, “I'm so glad your hangover wasn't as bad as some others have been.”

She giggled, “Same here.”

She handed off the brownies and waved goodbye cheerfully as he departed, telling him to text her anything exciting. After that she grabbed a brownie for herself, alongside a tall glass of milk, and settled on the couch with her laptop, intending to edit her latest vlog a little before posting. Hopefully Branch would be home with some tasty dinner ideas soon and that he'd like the dessert she'd made. Giggling to herself, Poppy was positive he would, who couldn't resist a freshly baked brownie? Not even Branch was immune to that.

                                                     ~*~*~*~*~*~

Branch is a good guy/best roommate for not only taking care of Poppy when she didn't feel good but making sure she didn't do something stupid while she was drunk, like kiss him. And Biggie is too good and pure for this world.

And see Poppy, this is why we don't get super drunk on a weekday.